Fiction

Before the Buzzer

Cain Randle I had been thinking about writing a memoir for twenty years and staring at a blinking cursor in

N.J. Webster On our hike to say goodbye, we find a tortilla chip truck at the bottom of the canyon.

Amber Burke We’d just bought one of those Maine houses, you know the kind, right on the cliffside, gulf below,

DS Levy My wife’s artsy friends came over for a Christmas party, and while they were hanging around the island

Jane Wageman She met him collecting shark teeth on the South Carolina shore and he was not a beach bum

Elise Blackwell Because I am not a good-looking man in anyone’s book, with my slit eyes and thorny hair, her

Maegan Poland Back then, I couldn’t tell the age of adults. Now, I picture his face waxy like a Ken

Jan Stinchcomb There’s a little devil running around our neighborhood. We’ve seen him. In colonial Massachusetts, on the other side

Nora Wagner After Ivan’s sister dies, he can’t sleep without the ocean waves sound machine. I go along with it,